The Light Above Us
by strawberriez8800
Summary: Thomas/Jimmy - Time shuffles by – slowing down for the both of us.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: Hey everyone :) This is the first instalment of 'The Light Above Us' series, where I'll write random thommy ficlets based on weekly episodes of Season 4 of Downton Abbey. This one here is, of course, inspired by episode 1 :)  
_

* * *

Frost danced in the dusk-tinged ambiance, feather-light, winter-cold. The wind rustled by in quiet lulls, whispering sweet-nothings in the ears of nature, carrying its secrets as it voyaged across the land.

The cigarette ashes floated in the wind, lost wanderers in the silence of night. Thomas blew out a jet of smoke with closed eyes, feeling the wind nibble along his skin.

"Valentine's Day tomorrow."

Thomas's eyes slid open at the voice, half-lidded, heavy with the lethargy that followed a full day of work. "I'm aware."

Jimmy slipped into place beside him, graceful as a cat, and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. He brought the unlit fag to his mouth and leaned closer for Thomas to set the tip alight. The fragrance of Jimmy's pomade wafted in the cruising air – tantalizing, forbidden.

"Send anyone a card?" Jimmy leaned away, the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Thomas cast him a side glance, watching the way Jimmy's lips quirked up in a smirk. "No – did you?"

Jimmy grinned at him. "We'll see tomorrow, won't we?" He brought the fag to his lips and inhaled.

Thomas smiled and looked away. It was _almost _enough to stir up a spark of hope – almost, but not quite. "I suppose we will."


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: Another ficlet inspired by episode 1, haha :) I'm starting to like writing little moments like these._

* * *

The windows rattled in protest to the storm. Wooden frames groaned and creaked – almost as if they were living beings – and for an absurd moment, Thomas felt as though they were staring down at him, judging the words that were yet to be printed on the parchment beyond his fingers.

_Dear Jimmy, _it read.

Thomas quenched his cigarette on the ashtray, and picked up the pen. It felt oddly heavy in his grip, the weight a reminder that once he went down this road, there was no going back.

He had already been given a second chance, after all.

The tip pressed down, and –

A knock on his door made his stomach lurch. Thomas drew a book over the paper and turned around, greeted by the sight of Jimmy's head peeking through the gap. "Fancy a game, Mr Barrow? We need another player downstairs."

Thomas opened his mouth, about to accept the invitation, but Jimmy's eyes darted to the book on his desk – and Thomas's blood ran a few degrees colder. "Not tonight, Jimmy. You have fun." He smiled, lighting another cigarette.

The clock struck twelve on his nightstand.

_Happy Valentine's Day_.

Jimmy flashed him a cheeky grin. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Thomas's heart jumped at the uncanny echo. He scrambled for words – a futile attempt, but Jimmy had already disappeared, his footsteps pounding down the hallway.

He sighed and turned back to his desk. His gaze trailed down, soaking in the blankness of the page. The pen laid still, perching on the edge, and perhaps it was _that _– the way it was teetering on the verge of a great fall – that drew Thomas back to his senses.

So he brought his lighter to the parchment – and watched as the flame ate away unwritten words.


	3. Chapter 3

_Note: Inspired by Jimmy's change of hair. I try to keep this series as true to canon as possible, so I hope it comes off that way. Enjoy :)_

* * *

It was just like any other day, in which servants bustled about the halls at first light, preparing for the day before the family rose.

Except, it wasn't – not quite.

"Morning, Mr Barrow." Jimmy took a seat beside him in the servant's hall.

"Morning." Thomas let his gaze wander on Jimmy's face before he looked away, sipping on his Earl Grey. "Your hair's different."

Jimmy shrugged, the gesture held with an easy nonchalance. "The wave was becoming rather cumbersome to maintain, to be honest." He brought his hand up to smooth over the side. "What do you think?"

Thomas tried not to stare for too long. It was a tricky business. "Looks nice." An understatement – but he kept that part to himself. "What brought this on? Did someone make fun of you?" Thomas smirked, lighting a fag.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, as though the very notion was ridiculous - and perhaps it was. It was difficult to imagine anybody mocking Jimmy; it was usually the footman who did the mocking. "The world is changing, Mr Barrow. Only seems fitting to make little changes to myself."

The recent months that flitted by crossed Thomas's mind, bringing a smile to his lips. It held on as he cast Jimmy a look that danced between friendship and what laid beyond. Jimmy returned the smile with one of his own, tinted with a fondness that Thomas had learned to never take for granted.

And so he thought – the world was, indeed, changing.


	4. Chapter 4

_Note: Based on episode 2 :)_

* * *

It had been a long, long day.

One that Jimmy hoped he never had to live through again – not with Ivy, in any case.

"Did you enjoy the musical?"

Jimmy blinked, turning around to see Mr Barrow standing by the door leading into his room – the room that they had spent so much time in, playing cards and drinking whiskey, smoking half-empty packets of cigarettes – "You're still up, Mr Barrow." It wasn't a question, but it sounded like one anyway. "It's rather late."

Mr Barrow's eyes were hidden in the midnight shadows, but there was hint of – something to his posture that said more than Jimmy needed to know. "Glad to know Ivy was good company."

It almost felt like they were having two one-sided conversations. It was unnerving, somehow.

Jimmy wanted nothing more than to step into his room and slam the door behind him, but –

His hand curled around the doorknob, his face turned away. "You may not need to have everyone love you, Mr Barrow." He sighed – almost imperceptibly. "But I do."


	5. Chapter 5

_Note: This week's ficlet is, of course, going to be the Jammies vs. Jam scene in episode 3. You had no idea how many times I rewatched that and laughed out loud every time._

* * *

There was a crash of splintering glass when the jar hit the ground, followed by a heavy thump when Jimmy went down on his back.

The cigarette almost fell from Thomas's lips at the abrupt debacle. The instinct to rush forward and helped Jimmy to his feet plagued Thomas for a split second, but the footman clambered back onto his feet with hasty limbs. Thomas's eyes darted to the look of amusement on Alfred's face, and back to Jimmy. There was a flush high on his cheeks – with humiliation, or anger – perhaps both.

Thomas resisted the urge to snicker, a snide but friendly comment on the tip of his tongue.

Jimmy reddened by a few shades deeper as he glared at everyone and everything. Thomas shrank back a little to keep out of sight, a grin twitching on his lips. "I hurt myself, thank you very much." Jimmy adjusted his livery with such ferocity that it did nothing but highlight his embarrassment.

Unlike everyone else in the kitchen, Mrs Patmore was not amused. "Well you'll mend, which is more than I can say for that jar."

Thomas's gaze trailed to Jimmy's fingers. They were rubbing his other wrist as though trying to fend off an impending soreness. Without another word, Jimmy stormed away, leaving the girls to clean up his mess.

It was only then Thomas allowed himself a smirk. He turned away from the kitchen, lips quirking at the hushed giggles from the kitchen maids behind him.

He made a mental note to check on Jimmy's wound later.


	6. Chapter 6

_Note: Based on episode 4 :)_

* * *

Time seemed to flash by in a blink when there was no one else in the world – for the next thing Thomas knew, the evening had crept into the recesses of the night. The sky was dark beyond the window, dotted with brooding stars as they watched over the land. The moon bore down in a pale glow, silent in its solitude.

Inside the servants' hall, all was deserted except for Thomas and Jimmy. They had just finished the last of their game, drunk the last of their drinks, quenched the last of their cigarettes. The table was adorned with scattered cards, empty glasses and half-filled ashtrays – the inklings of their friendship, cleaned away each evening only to resurface in the next.

How the world had changed.

Jimmy stacked the cards into a deck and placed it back into the box. There was a distracted stance in every twitch of his movement, as though weighed down by some bidden thought.

"What is it?" Thomas asked, voice small in the vast emptiness of the hall.

Jimmy shrugged, and shook his head, the motion sending a lock of hair tumbling down his temple. "Just thinking about, well…" He looked up from the table, a sheepish smile tugging on his lips. "Dreams, I suppose."

"Dreams?"

He nodded, slipping the box into his pocket. "There was a discussion earlier today…about what we wanted to do after – well, _this_." His shoulders slumped every so slightly. "And I was just thinking of how, well, _different _we all are – yet we're here, working under the same roof." His eyes softened. "How's such a thing even possible?"

Thomas frowned a little; Jimmy's words seemed a little out of sorts. "Jimmy, is something the matter?"

Jimmy's eyes widened – just a little, but enough for Thomas to notice. "Nothing." He turned away. "I just…don't know what to do is all. Everyone else seems to have _their _lives all sorted out." The words were bitter when he said them, and Thomas's heart squeezed a little.

"Such things take time to figure out. Some take longer than others – no rush." Thomas tried to catch his eye. "You're still young, Jimmy – plenty of future ahead of you. Don't worry." He cast him a reassuring smile.

Jimmy exhaled a long, slow breath. "I suppose you're right, but…" He bit his lip, blue eyes searching for grey. "How about you, Mr Barrow? Do you have dreams?"

Thomas hesitated. Should he – "I did, yes."

"Did?" There was confusion in Jimmy's voice. "What happened?"

Thomas smiled. "They've already come true."


	7. Chapter 7

_Note: Based on 4x07, a snapshot of Thomas on the ship on his way to America. I actually posted this as a separate fic on my Tumblr, but then I thought it could be part of this series, so here it is :)_

* * *

Thomas had never liked to settle for second best.

Then again, second best was _the _best he could do where _this _was concerned.

"Oh –" Henry grunted as Thomas pressed up behind him, hands pinned on either side of the steward. "Thomas –" In such a guttural state his voice sounded eerily close to someone back home –

Thomas flinched, teeth clenched too hard and heart beating too fast. "Don't say my name." The words tripped out of his mouth, fast and furious and –

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just enjoy this bloody thing._

"A-alright sorry." A subdued gasp wrecked through Henry's sweat-stained body as Thomas withdrew his fingers from his arse, coated with lubricant and ready for his taking.

"Ready?" Thomas whispered, vision hazy as the world swam around him. His heart pounded in rapid bursts, the beats humming through his chest as it lay against the curve of Henry's back.

Henry nodded, the gesture too hasty, too _desperate _that Thomas almost wanted to look away. The motion sent his blond hair tumbling, the light shifting and bouncing through the locks as though playing a game of hide and seek. "Ah –" Henry's fingers clawed against the wooden wall as Thomas inched into him, cock hard and slick with jelly. Thomas's head spun for a moment from the sheer sensation – it'd been so long, too long that Thomas almost forgot how _good _it felt to fuck something that was not his own _hand. _It was pathetic, but Thomas was _used _to pathetic – a feeling buried underneath his layers and layers of callous pride, hidden too far down to ever see daylight. But when it did, it _hurt_and Thomas hated it.

"Jimmy –" The name slipped past his tongue. "_Fuck, _I didn't –" Thomas clamped his mouth shut, panic surging for a split second before he realized his words had gone unheard by the steward beneath him.

"Harder, Thomas – please. I can't –"

_"Shut up_." It was almost too much to bear, to hear his name uttered by this _stranger _who was good for nothing but a quick fuck – a stranger who looked too much like _him _for Thomas to ever be comfortable with.

But then, he'd always been somewhat of a masochist when it came to love and heartbreak.

It was a feeling he was all too used to – but that didn't mean he had to like it.


End file.
